


Sock it to Me

by fallingwildrosepetals



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:33:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23599159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallingwildrosepetals/pseuds/fallingwildrosepetals
Summary: John Watson can't find his socks.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Kudos: 40





	Sock it to Me

"Sherlock!" John clambered down the frozen stairs and onto the thin carpet of the drawing room. “I know you can hear me! Where are you?" 

Likely using his genius to deduce he was in trouble, Sherlock remained hidden. John glanced about the flat, but it looked empty. Too empty. 

With Sherlock, there was no such thing as a reasonable hiding place. Catlike, he could squeeze himself into any amount of space. Once, John found him wedged into a mattress. With his arse. When he sat on him. 

"Right." John pulled on his slippers. They were comfortable enough, if worn through the toe. He shuffled into the kitchen. "If you aren't out here in the count of five, I’m throwing away your mouldy ear lobes!" He opened the fridge. "Five...four...three..." He grabbed the sandwich bag. 

"John, no!" Sherlock burst into the kitchen and grabbed the ear lobes. "Those are for an experiment!"

"An experiment?" John asked, then straightened his spine, channeling Captain Watson. "Speaking of experiments, where are all my socks?" 

Sherlock moved backwards, but John caught him by the end of his house coat. 

"None of that. I won’t ask you again.” 

Sherlock looked off to the side and mumbled something. 

"Louder." 

"I put them in acid for an experiment on hole patterns."

"All my socks?" 

"Yes." 

John stared him down. "And why didn't you use your own socks? Or buy new ones?" 

"The killer would never wear cashmere socks and they had to be worn in, obviously." 

"Obviously." John flicked Sherlock on the nose. "You owe me new socks." 

Sherlock rubbed his nose and glared at John. "Wear the socks Janine left for now." 

"You would rather I wear your ex-fiancée’s socks than yours?" 

"You'll mess up my index!" he huffed, crossing his arms. 

"You messed up my socks!" 

They stared each other down, mouths quirking at the edges. John moved first, throwing an elbow in his ribs. Sherlock elbowed back, getting John in the chest. John shook his head and pounced, sticking his hands under Sherlock’s ratty sleep shirt and ghosting his fingers up and down his sides. 

Sherlock giggled uncontrollably. “John…John! John! John, I’m gonna…I’m gonna…” 

“What?” John asked, smothering his laughter. 

Sherlock fell back. John caught him behind the knee and dropped him to the floor. At the last moment, Sherlock wrapped his arms around John’s waist and pulled him down after him. 

Laying on the floor, they looked into each other’s eyes and laughed. John elbowed Sherlock in the ribs, wiping tears from his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> From a prompt sent in by my bestest friend: "For JohnLock: playful arguing that leads to playful, harmless elbows shoving into their sides while they laugh at each other and themselves." 
> 
> If you'd like to request a fic, hit me up on Tumblr [@readinglikechickensoup](https://readinglikechickensoup.tumblr.com/)


End file.
